


It Does Not Matter

by orphan_account



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Band Of Brothers - Freeform, Bastogne, Episode 6, Gen, M/M implied, Part Six, The Battle of The Bulge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It does not matter. <em>It does not matter. </em></p>
<p>War is Hell. </p>
<p>
  <em>Bastogne is Hell. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Does Not Matter

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written BoB fiction before, bear with me.

It does not matter that the ground beneath him is cold and wet, soaking through his army-issue uniform and freezing him from the very centre of his being. It does not matter that his fingers are numb, even as they clutch the canteen of undefinable, hot sludge nor does it matter that the company march on without him, including him but not quite keeping him - it does not matter that he is vital to their survival but rarely a part of their combat, or that his hands are stained no matter how much he tries to wash them. It does not matter. _It does not matter._

All he can feel, all he can hear and all he can see is the grey mist of a Christmas day air and the rusted smell of in his nostrils never to lift. 

War is Hell. 

_Bastogne is Hell._

It does not matter that Winters is so kind, that he has a leader of the men who actually cares. It does not matter that his ears are so full of explosion he can hear it even when he tries to sleep. It does not matter because it cannot be changed.

It does not matter that she is gone, that their brief exchanges were meaningful because there is nobody who will ever remember her name. Beautiful though she was, she is gone. 

War saves no-one. 

It does not matter that he is freezing, that the snow turns his fingertips and chin and nose a bright pink, making them so cold they grow more and more numb by the moment. It does not matter _because it cannot be helped._

It does not matter because he has Heffron and Heffron matters, Heffron matters so much that it does not matter when he tears up the memory of _her_. 

“Hey Gene, you called me Babe...” 

“I did? When?” 

“Just now.” 

“Babe. I guess I did.” 

“ _Babe!_ ”

“Heffron; watch the goddamned line.” 

It does not matter that it hurts, that the ghosts visit in the night and the pain digs deep. It does not matter. It does not matter.


End file.
